


starcrossed

by bakakateme (orphan_account)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Gender-neutral Reader, Gift Fic, Multi, One Shot Collection, Other, Post-Timeskip, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27252238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/bakakateme
Summary: five one shots mostly based on the five love languages
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Reader, Kozume Kenma/Reader, Oikawa Tooru/Reader, Sugawara Koushi/Reader, Suna Rintarou/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 217





	1. physical touch with kozume kenma

you wake up to soft cursing and the steady click of buttons on a controller. you don’t even need to look at the alarm clock to know it’s criminally early, but the warm glow of a video screen lights up the bedroom. your boyfriend is on the floor, as usual, staring determinedly at the screen and gripping his console. yawning, you rub the sleep out of your eyes and squint. he’s playing stardew valley instead of one of his usual multiplayer battle rpgs, probably so he won’t be tempted to scream at other players and wake you up.

_cute_ , you think to yourself.

kenma flinches. oops, did you say that out loud?

“i didn’t know you were awake,” he mumbles, setting his controller down.

“it’s okay. keep playing.” you gather the blankets around yourself and make your way over to him, sitting down and draping one of the blankets over kenma as well. he hesitates, then pulls you closer. “you don’t need to-“

“i know. i want to.” with you snuggled comfortably against him, he goes back to building his farm.

kenma isn’t a germaphobe, but you’re aware that he isn’t someone who actively seeks out physical contact. sure, he doesn’t mind it, per se, but he appreciates personal space and absolutely hates being approached by people he isn’t comfortable with. since that already makes for a very short list of people he’d be willing to even touch hands with, let alone hug or cuddle, you’d been very hesitant to initiate contact at the beginning of the relationship. eventually, however, your need for physical affection won out (after all, you were only human), and you flat-out asked him whether or not he wanted to cuddle. he had blinked at you, looking vaguely confused, before shrugging.

the two of you don’t usually hug or hold hands, especially in public, so most people aren’t even aware that you’re dating. but you’re content with the occasional soft kiss on the cheek or lips, and a late night cuddle session or two.

you watch kenma harvest grain on the screen, his soft breathing occasionally tickling your ear, the two of you cocooned in your makeshift blanket fort, tucked away from the rest of the world. maybe your relationship isn’t as outwardly affectionate as everyone else, but this is enough for you.

yawning, you reach up to play with a strand of his hair, and he makes a rumbling sound in the back of his throat that sounds oddly like a purr. suppressing a laugh as he pulls you closer, you card your fingers through his silky hair and lean your head on his shoulder. there are no words exchanged, but with kenma, it doesn’t matter. you know how he feels, and he knows how you feel.

pressed against him, eyes fluttering closed, you think that this might be what love is like. it isn’t bone crushing hugs or hungry french kisses like you had originally thought; it’s you and kenma, silently snuggled up at 3 in the morning, enjoying the warmth of each other’s bodies, knowing the other person is there. because he’s always there for you, albeit silent and straight-faced, but you can see it in his eyes. he cares. even kuroo has noticed.

_ “he’s happier when he’s around you.” you look up from your paperwork, startled. _

_ “how do you know?” _

_ “his eyes light up every time he sees you. even when someone brings you up in conversation, he’ll look up from his console and listen.” you don’t know what to say, but kuroo seems to understand. he doesn’t ask you for an answer. “just... treat him well, yeah? he really loves you.” _

you love him too, so much it sometimes makes you dizzy. every time he gifts you with a rare smile, or grabs your hand to pull you along with him in the privacy of your apartment, it feels like your heart fills with happiness so fast, it’ll explode.

kenma isn’t a whirlwind romance, someone who’ll come and go in a flash, leaving behind nothing but the memory of a name. kenma is coming home after a long day; quietly humming when you’re in a good mood; sitting down with the latest manga chapter, ready to fangirl; his love is welcoming, accepting, supportive.

and, contrary to popular opinion, he’s always ready to cuddle.


	2. words of affirmation with akaashi keiji

keiji feels like a breath of fresh air, that one song on the radio that you’ve never heard but instantly becomes your favorite, a plot twist that you never saw coming but makes you fall in love with the show even more. he’s confident, capable, and he never lets you down or makes you feel unwanted. he’s the perfect boyfriend, and you so desperately want to be the perfect girlfriend for him. but sometimes, you just can’t.

me:

i know we had a date planned today, but can we please cancel? i don’t feel like going out

keiji <3:

that’s perfectly fine

do you want me to come over?

me:

is that okay?

keiji <3:

i’m already on my way

i love you

me:

i love you too

you feel so endlessly guilty for canceling on your boyfriend, but you just can’t seem to get out of bed today.

you’ve been taking your meds, drinking water, eating regularly, and sleeping on time. so why, today of all days, are you feeling so off?

keiji lets himself in; you gave him the key to your apartment. 

“angel?”

suddenly you realize- your face is greasy, your hair is a mess, and you’re in the ratty pajamas your grandmother gave you last christmas. yeah, this was not a good idea.

“an- why are you hiding underneath your blankets?”

“...are you laughing?”

“no. maybe. yes. why are you hiding?”

“i look like sh*t, keiji.”

you feel him raise the blankets on the other side of the bed before he slides under them, joining you.

“you couldn’t look like sh*t if you tried, love.”

a pause.

“i’m sorry.”

keiji taps at your shoulder, bringing your attention to him. he doesn’t stop until your eyes are locked on his.

“i told you i wouldn’t mind if you canceled, as long as you told me why, remember? this is perfectly fine.”

“but... you had a whole date planned, and i agreed to it.”

keiji sighs.

“what’s the point of a date, angel?”

“uh... to show off to everyone who’s lonely and single and motivate them to get their lives together?”

he gives you a Look, having seen right through your plot to distract him.

“dates are so we can spend time with each other. this is still doing that, isn’t it?”

“well, yeah, but-“

“no buts. come here.” he holds out his arms, and you shift over so he can hug you. after a second, you hug him back. “no more apologies. stuff like this happens, and i want you to know that it’s okay.”

“thank you, keiji,” you say, voice slightly muffled since your face is pressed into his shoulder.

“now, do you want to stay like this, or do you want me to make you breakfast and then watch the new episode of jujutsu kaisen together?”

“can i shower first?”

“of course, love.”

you get in the shower, singing quietly as you clean yourself. when you’re finished, keiji has already made pancakes and eggs, and jujutsu kaisen is waiting, paused at the beginning of the latest episode, on the flatscreen tv. the two of you spend the rest of the day on your couch bickering over the plot developments and who your favorite characters are.

he’s so perfect, you think, as you watch him explain why everyone should worship gojou satoru (an opinion you agree with one hundred percent). he’s kind, faithful, sweet, patient, reliable-

you don’t realize you’re crying until he stops talking and leans forward, concern taking over his pretty boy features.

“angel?”

you wave him away, brushing at your tears.

“it’s nothing. you’re just so- you- and i’m not-“ 

keiji frowns.

“look at me, love.”

you look. his eyes are bright blue, staring right into yours. he’s not just pretty- he’s beautiful. 

“you’re beautiful, keiji.” the words tumble out before you can stop them, and you can see he’s taken aback for a second. however, in typical keiji fashion, he takes it in stride.

“and you’re amazing, love. i don’t know what you’re thinking right now, or what brought this on, but i promise you. i could not ask for a better partner. you’re so smart, and you’re so unbelievably funny. you’re always able to keep up with my friends, even though they’re exhausting to be around. you always try and put my problems before your own, and you never brush me off. you’re kind, and you’re stunning, and you’re amazing at everything you try. i’m so so lucky to be dating you, angel, and i love you with all my heart. i promise.”

more tears are falling, but this time they’re happy tears. right now, it’s hard to believe, but it’s keiji. and hearing these words from him make your heart expand so fast it feels like it’ll break free from your ribcage.

“i love you, i love you-“

he cuts you off with a kiss, pulling you into his arms. 

“i love you.”


	3. acts of service with suna rintarou

suna observes the kitchen island with the flat stare that’s become his default expression. it’s his day off, and you’re working. he hadn’t been ecstatic, to say the least, when you had told him last week, apologetic smile on your face. but he knew how important this job was to you, and he was fine being alone. after all, it gave him plenty of opportunities to try this recipe- although it probably also gave him plenty of opportunities to potentially burn down the house. suna was by no means skilled nor comfortable in the kitchen, much to his best friend’s horror.

_“whaddya mean, you’ve never cooked before? and you kept this from me?”_

_ suna blinked. _

_ “in what context would it have made sense to bring that up?” _

_osamu scoffed and brandished a large, cast-iron pan in suna’s general direction, barely missing the middle blocker’s nose._

_ “no excuses, sunarin! i’m gonna turn ya inta a chef, and a damn good one at that!” _

suffice to say, suna did not learn how to cook, and the day ended with osamu practically in tears at his friend’s incompetency. he had even compared him to atsumu, something suna did not appreciate. they had nothing in common.

for example, suna knew what hair toner was.

so here he was, staring at a piece of chicken breast as if to ask,  _what do i do?_

the chicken breast did not respond. it was a chicken breast, not the advice column of the local paper.

suna had, perhaps a little foolishly, decided to try his hand at making matzo ball soup. he had remembered you wanting to try some a couple months ago, but you’d never gotten the chance. he has a recipe right next to him, and the ingredients were laid out neatly on the kitchen counter.

this is where suna’s mind draws a blank. although he has experience baking, and can whip up a decent batch of cookies, he has never cooked. never. not once in his life.

even atsumu has cooked before.

mildly annoyed, suna begins dicing onions. really, how hard can this be? 

he receives his answer several hours-and multiple failed tries- later. trying to cook you soup is quite possibly the hardest thing he has ever done. the first try, he messed up the matzo ball dough. the second time, he didn’t prep the chicken well enough and it remained a raw lump while the rest of the soup burned. the third, fourth, and fifth attempts all ended in various forms of disaster. suna is currently attempting to fix the garbage disposal, as it won’t stop letting out gargling noises.

he sighs through his nose, fighting off the migraine lurking at the back of his head, and catches a glimpse of the clock.

oh no.

you were going to arrive home in-

“rin?”

right now.

“rin... what’s that noise?”

suna frantically tries to shut off the garbage disposal, then realizes the problem is that it’s making noise  _while_ being off.

he’s so dead.

suna is considering getting on his knees and begging for mercy when you enter the kitchen and your jaw immediately hits the floor. 

“rin, that looks delicious!” 

he looks over at you, but you’re ignoring both him and the extremely concerning sounds coming from the sink, and staring at the only non-messy surface in the kitchen. the table is carefully set with a grey tablecloth and two sets of utensils neatly laid out with placemats on either side of the table. there’s a vase full of flowers in the middle, and two flickering candles. on each placemat is a bowl of suna’s first batch of matzo soup- the one with the dough he’s pretty sure contains some sort of yeast infection. he had set everything up before starting the cooking process, believing he would have an edible meal ready by the time you got home in an uncharacteristic show of optimism.

“wait, [f/n]-“

before he can stop you, you’ve picked up a spoon and scooped up the soup, placing it in your mouth.

one second... two...

and you’re spitting it right back out, a disgusted look on your face.

“what  is  that?”

suna sighs again, tone dry as he says,

“a failed attempt at making you dinner. please don’t eat any more; i prefer my significant others without food poisoning.”

“oi, you’re the one who cooked this,” you scowl, but you put down the spoon anyways and pour yourself a cup of water to rinse out the aftertaste. “come on, let’s clean up.”

* * *

an hour later, the two of you collapse onto the living room couch, exhausted and absolutely starving. suna had somehow managed to jam the garbage disposal, so at least it had stopped gargling, but you’d definitely need to get it looked at.

“let’s just order takeout,” you suggest, too tired from cleaning to actually try to make something to eat.

suna nods. “i’ll call for pizza.”

he disappears into the next room with his phone, and you lean back into a pillow, eyes closing. he isn’t back for a while, and you’re practically asleep by the time he taps your shoulder to signal he finished ordering.

you let out a grumble in response and turn onto your side, face pressed into the back of the couch. suna taps you again, more insistently, so you sit up and brush the hair out of your face.

he’s holding a box, you notice, and you look at him, question obvious in your eyes. slowly, almost reverently, suna opens it to reveal-

“brownies.” the word falls from your lips, tinged faintly with disappointment. you honestly don’t know what you were expecting, but it was not brownies. not that you have a problem with brownies, exactly, but you don’t think you’re entirely in the mood for them right now. also, who eats dessert before dinner?

suna quirks an eyebrow at you. 

“they’re edibles, babe.”

you just look at him for a second before it clicks in your tired brain.

“oh. OH.”

the corner of his mouth curves up, only for a second, but you savor the rare show of amusement before leaning forward and plucking a brownie from the box, popping it into your mouth. suna does the same before settling down next to you and pulling you to snuggle up under his arm.

the drug takes a couple minutes to kick in, but once it does, you feel a familiar haze settling over your brain. the doorbell rings, suna goes to get your food, and the two of you end up feeding pizza to each other, taking lazy bites and staring at each other with half-lidded eyes. 

eventually, you move to slow, deep kisses, both of you leaving marks on the side of the other’s neck, red that will eventually give way to dark purple and be hastily covered with powder tomorrow morning.

but right now, it’s just you and suna, and you declare your love in every soft press of your mouth on his skin, the same way you felt his love in every dirty bowl and pile of spilled flour you had to clean up. sure, he’d almost made you puke up half your internal organs, but the care with which he set the table and prepped the soup was evident.

you and suna didn’t need words; no, you had actions. and, as his hands settled on your waist and your fingers swept through his hair, you couldn’t help but think these actions-this love-might speak loud enough, be deep enough, to last you for the rest of your life.


	4. gifts with oikawa tooru

“good morning!”

a long string of curses falls out of your mouth as you open your eyes and wake up to-

your boyfriend. your boyfriend who is holding a tray of food, and wearing a  _skirt._

your jaw is somewhere on the floor, but you don’t bother to pick it up, too busy staring.

he grins and poses like the idiot he is.

“happy birthday, kitten!”

* * *

two hours later, the two of you are walking around the mall, hand-in-hand. oikawa had taken the day off from volleyball practice, and he’d even planned out an itinerary, which you’d found surprising given that it was, well, oikawa.

“do you want this?”

“not really?”

“okay, what about this?”

“i’m good.”

“do you want to buy this, then?”

“tooru, what even is that.”

the entire mall trip goes about the same; him picking up random things and shoving them at you, offering to buy them. it’s adorable, but the effect is somewhat ruined when he starts offering to get you things like the ugliest piece of pottery you’ve ever seen, or a painting of a deformed... actually, you weren’t even sure what that was.

it was the thought that counts, though, and the morning ended with the two of you making out in the car.

* * *

“is this a karaoke bar?” you ask your boyfriend, looking around.

“yeah, isn’t it cool? one of my teammates told me about this place,” oikawa replies excitedly.

you’re a little bit apprehensive, but you take a seat at the bar anyways while oikawa orders.

“i’ll be right back, okay love?”

“wait, where are you-“ but he’s already gone, leaving behind the drinks. with a sigh, you take a sip. he’s probably just going to the bathroom anyways.

“excuse me! excuse me!” a loud voice comes from on the stage, and you freeze. a very loud, very familiar voice. “today is my beautiful girlfriend’s birthday, and i am going to be singing her a song!”

he points directly at you, and immediately every single person in the bar swivels around to stare. so much blood is rushing to your face you’re momentarily worried your head will explode, but you’re distracted when the music starts playing.

you thought he would sing some sappy love song that would make you tear up, but no. he’s singing the one song that’s been stuck in your head for literal months.

“An, An, An, An, an'ina kotoba wa iranai

Demo nande darou

Zen, zen, zen, zen, zenbu mono ni shitai

I wanna wanna touch your-“

you bury your head in your hands, shaking with laughter. meanwhile, up on the stage, oikawa is absolutely living for every single pair of eyes trained on him, singing his heart out.

“3 , 2 , 1 Let s session

Check Check Check testing you ..

No no no no no oh ..

Hyappatsuhyakuchū ho-ruinwan

Shaberitai shaberenai tte ya Chiya tte yo hassha o-rai

Furetemitai

Dakiaitai hadaka dōshi de

Chotto shita irechatte mo ii ka na

Ā, ashita wa dō naru

Rinkan wa iya da”

as he sings, he sashays across the stage, absolutely living for the people whispering behind their hands. by this point, you’re singing along, belting the lyrics out with him.

eventually, he walks over to the very edge of the stage, near the bar, where you’re still sitting. holding out the microphone to you, you yell into it,

“Sawarasеnai kimi wa shojo wa na no

Boku wa yarichinbitchi no osu da yo osu da yo!”

“Ā tsutsumaretai na kimi no nenmaku niiii”

maybe your voice sounds terrible. maybe his does too. but it’s your birthday, and you are living for every single moment of this. if you’re having fun, what’s the problem?

as your terrible, terrible boyfriend gets back up onto the stage, belting out lyrics like his life depends on it, you watch him, your huge grin refusing to leave your face.

in the end, the two of you didn’t end up buying anything at the mall, but it doesn’t matter to you. this entire day was a gift. in fact, this entire relationship was a gift. 

having tooru oikawa in your life was worth more to you than any expensive jewelry or five star vacation.

you loved him, beyond any gifts you gave or songs you sung. you loved him, and you knew that he loved you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer i don’t support ybc and if you do you’re gross


	5. quality time with sugawara koushi

you wake up in your bedroom, the only sound coming from the ticking clock on the far wall. as the first rays of sunlight flicker through the curtains, you rub the sleep from your eyes and reach for the other side of the bed. 

it’s cold, the sheets rumpled and pillow askew.

it’s been a while since the bed wasn’t like that when you woke up.

you love your boyfriend, you do; after all, you’re still with him, aren’t you? but it’s beginning to get frustrating, how busy he always is. you hadn’t thought being a teacher was a terribly time-consuming job, which was half the reason you’d gone out with him, but then you found out he taught at a prestigious private school where all the parents were filthy rich and in a different foreign country every night.

schools like that worked differently, apparently.

normally, you would’ve broken up with him on the spot, annoyed at him for leaving that out and for the loss of extra attention. but something was different about the silver-haired man, and against your better judgement, you let him steal your heart.

which ended you up here, in a dark, empty room with a cold, empty bed.

with a sigh, you roll out of bed and start getting ready for your own job. it starts a couple hours after koushi’s, and ends earlier as well, leaving you with plenty of time to spend in the lonely apartment the two of you shared. what joy.

you shook your head before you got even more annoyed at him. it wasn’t his fault- you knew he loved his job, and you could see how happy he was when he talked about the kids, almost like they were his own. and when he had time off, he always made sure to dance around the kitchen with you, or drive around for hours, or prepare a surprise picnic. by all standards, he was an incredible boyfriend.

you were probably just being unreasonable, right?

koushi ٩ (  ᐛ ) و :

i’m sorry :(

koushi ٩ (  ᐛ ) و :

i have to stay late tonight, for parent-teacher conferences.

me:

that’s okay!

you could just spend some time with him over the weekend. his hours weren’t even that unreasonable, you told yourself. and this was just for today. and, you could even go to bed earlier and get some extra sleep. it wasn’t a problem!

* * *

the apartment is empty when you get home, of course. not that you were expecting anything else.

too tired to cook, you order takeout for both yourself and your boyfriend. his is left covered on the counter as you flop onto the bed, bored out of your mind and bone-tired.

what did you even do before you started dating him?

_...go on other dates?_ the acerbic little bitch at the back of your mind reminds you.

well, you definitely weren’t about to do that.

you wake up (again) to the doorbell as it rings. and rings. and rings. and rings- who was even at the damn door?

your boyfriend, it turns out, as you open it, absolutely prepared to give the incessant doorbell ringer a piece of your mind. he looks embarrassed, holding a large basket in his hand, and that’s when you remember you’ve been napping for-

“FOUR HOURS?” you yell, probably unnecessarily loudly, as you see the clock in the hallway. koushi looks startled, but you ignore him. there’s no way your hair isn’t sticking up everywhere, and your skin is probably oilier than the gulf of mexico.

“ahh... sorry, angel. i know i stayed a little later that i should’ve, but there was this one parent-“

oh. did he think you were yelling at him?

“oh, no, that’s, uh, not what i meant,” you say, waving your hands at him frantically. “i’m not mad at you, or anything.”

“ahh, that’s good,” he says, still blushing. have you two really recessed to the awkward early couple stage? jesus, you must’ve been spending even less time together than you thought. he lifts up the basket. “i wanted to, uh... just come on.” 

he grabs your hand and pulls you towards the door at the end of the hallway, the one marked “ROOF- EMPLOYEE ACCESS ONLY” in bright red with a little graphic of a staircase.

“are we even allowed up there?”

he flashes you a grin, seemingly back to his old self already. “does it matter?”

the cold air hits you as soon as you’re outside, and noticing your shivers, koushi drapes a blanket over you. he spreads another one on the rooftop and sits, motioning you over. the sun had set about an hour ago, but the stars were still there, twinkling down at you.

“that’s orion,” he says, pointing upwards. “they say he was artemis’s closest friend, until he fell for her and she killed him.” 

you laugh. “i thought mother earth sent a scorpion to kill him?”

“yeah, but i like my version better,” he says with a smirk, pulling you closer. he’s warm, and you relax into his side, content.

he continues pointing out the different constellations, and even some planets, as you stare up at the sky in awe. eventually, you’ll have to go back to bed, and he’ll have to work tomorrow. 

but you know he cares about you, even if it’s hard for him to show it. he’s trying his best, and you love each other enough to smooth over the rough edges.

“that’s venus; it’s named after the roman goddess of love,” koushi tells you. you’re not sure, but you think you can see the faintest tinge of pink on his cheeks.

you lean up to kiss him, and he tastes like home.


End file.
